The first thing Hermione did when she woke at 7 that evening was shrinking and tucking away the fur rug at the foot of her bed. There was something rather unsettling about walking on top of a once-living animal.
Stepping into Viktor's bathroom, she was greeted by the rustic charm of stone walls and the inviting glow of a fireplace crackling in front of a large copper tub. A corner housed a modern shower, while another held the toilet.
After a relaxing bath, Hermione dug around her bag for a new set of clothes. She sighed and ran, trying to run her fingers through her wet curls. Her temple began to throb at the realization that she needed to go shopping. Well, that was a problem for tomorrow or the day after that if she could help it.
Trusty beaded bag slung over her shoulder, she paused outside Viktor's door. She bit her lip, her hand hovered over the door before retrieving it. He was most likely asleep and it would be incredibly rude of her to wake him up.
Viktor's cottage was not at all what Hermione was expecting out of the professional Quidditch player. The building itself was simple compared to the vastness of his land. There were only two decently sized floors.
The ground floor housed a snug living room warmed by a crackling fire that came to life as soon as she stepped out of the stairs. In the corner, facing the stables was a surprisingly roomy kitchen. A cluttered office nestled in a corner showcased Viktor's trophies, Quidditch gear, and an array of books that caught the magizoologist's eye.
The witch rummaged through her beaded bag for a sweater and cursed herself as her hand came back empty-handed. With a muttered incantation and a flick of her wand, she cast a warming charm. She then made her way to the stables.
Hermione hurried along, the snow crunching under her feet. Her heart pounded against her chest. The poor creature had been barely adjusting to the Institute and now it found itself in a strange new location. She couldn't fault him though and instead, she braced for the expected display of anger and confusion. But instead of the anticipated snorting and pawing, she found Bluey standing still.
She ran multiple diagnostic spells on the unicorn and found nothing out of the ordinary, on the contrary, his stats were where they should be for a unicorn his age.
Hermione furrowed her brows as she examined the results. Bluey's head swiveled periodically, his gaze drawn like a magnet toward the neighboring stalls. His long eyelashes fluttered shut for a moment, then snapped open as he pivoted once more, his attention firmly fixed on the horses on the other side of the stable.
Hermione's curiosity piqued, she padded across the stable floor, the rhythmic crunch of hay underfoot the only sound in the hushed space. Two elegant mares, their coats the color of burnished copper, stood calmly in their stalls, observing her with large obsidian eyes. As she approached, their ears pricked forward, their heads turning in unison to follow her movements.
Reaching out a hand, palm facing down, "Well, hello there," she greeted in Bulgarian.
Their breath tickled her skin as they lowered their heads, nuzzling her outstretched hand with soft velvety noses. "I'm Hermione," she tilted her head towards the unicorn. "And that's Bluey," she scratched the mares' noses and continued to talk, "We're going to stay here for a day or two, okay?" They nudged her hand with their muzzles, which Hermione took as a sign of acceptance.
Hermione spent the next hour deliberating a plan to incorporate the mares into Bluey's routine, with Viktor's approval first, of course. That would mean that she needed to do some research. Her mind whirled with possibilities. Was there any research in regards to unicorns interacting with nonmagical creatures? The more she thought about it the more excited she became. If it hadn't been for the gnawing hunger in her belly, she would've stayed longer.
The warm glow of the fireplace and the murmur of conversation welcomed Hermione as she entered the cozy cottage. She frowned, trying to make out the muffled voices over the Floo. One unmistakably belonged to Viktor, but she couldn't quite make out the other one.
She halted her steps, should she say something? She already felt awful about intruding in his space, she didn't want him to think she was being nosey.
"Her-my-oh-knee," the witch snapped her eyes to the side at the sound of her name. "You are back," Viktor said in English, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Her stomach fluttered and her hand instinctively pressed against her abdomen. She must have been hungrier than she thought.
He stood before her, clad in jods that hugged his thighs like a second skin. With each movement, the fabric clung to the powerful muscles that lay beneath, their pronounced outline leaving little to the imagination. He was also wearing a loose white linen shirt that showed off his clavicles and a trail of chest hair. As she took in the sight of him, the room suddenly felt stifling, a flush creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks.
"Ah, yes. I went to check on Bluey." Her eyes darted to his face but they, out of their own accord traveled to his chest. Gods he looked like he just stepped out the cover of Witch Weekly. Yesterday he had looked handsome like a prince, but today he looked sexy, like he was about to devour her. Not that she would mind.
"Hov is he?"
Hermione forced her eyes to his face.
"He's well! Actually, he's great," she smiled and met his eyes. "He's bonding with your horses."
"That is good." He replied with a lazy smile.
"It is! I was thinking of studying their interactions if that's okay with you."
His dark eyes roamed her body, "it is." He smiled. "You don't need to ask permission, this is your home."
She beamed at the Seeker. "Thank you and thank you for letting me stay here, it was very kind of you. I will get out of your hair as soon as possible."
"Take as much time as you need."
"I wouldn't want to impose on you."
"It is not a problem."
Viktor closed the distance between them, and as he did so, Hermione caught a whiff of his scent. It was intoxicating- a blend of cedarwood and bergamot. A playful glint flickered in his eyes as he reached toward her face. Her pulse quickened, only to be met with a gentle chuckle as he presented her with a piece of hay. "Interesting hair piece" he teased.
But she couldn't reply, embarrassment washed over her as she realized what she had been thinking. Did she really expect him to caress her face? But before she could berate herself any further, Viktor surprised her by lightly running the hay over her skin. It was a feather-light touch, one that barely even registered, but she could feel the heat of his skin emanating from just a few millimeters away.
"Vhere's your coat?" He continued to run the hay over her arms, creating goosebumps on her skin, and she found herself leaning into his touch.
"I didn't bring one," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You should haff told me. I can keep you varm," he said with a dashing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Hermione felt a rush of want running through her. "I haff coats you can use."
She nodded along too lost in his obsidian eyes to form an adequate response.
He pulled away, "The Director called and said you should call him," he said gruffly.
"R-Right, thanks."
As she made her way to the Floo, she was acutely aware of Viktor's presence behind her. He didn't move, but their bodies almost brushed against each other as she walked past him. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
Shaking off her inappropriate thoughts, Hermione contacted Professor Ivanov. Relief washed over her as she learned that, while the Institute had sustained significant structural damage, everyone was unharmed. The attackers turned out to be a vengeful poaching group. The poachers had used a potent and toxic poison that seeped into the ground rendering the area poisonous. The Aurors had tried a combination of spells and potions, but nothing worked. Professor Ivanov apologized profusely and explained they wouldn't be able to return until the Institute was thoroughly decontaminated. He assured her they were actively searching for temporary accommodations for the creatures, but the process was proving exceptionally challenging.
A wave of anxiety washed over her. As much as she was thankful to Viktor, she didn't want to impose on him any more than she had to. She chewed her lip, mentally dissecting potential solutions, each riddled with complications. Harry, she was certain, would welcome her with open arms, but Bluey needed space and privacy.
She briefly thought about The Burrow but instantly squashed that idea. There was no way Mrs Weasley wouldn't read into it. Speaking of Weasleys, she could always go to Romania with Charlie. However, she couldn't be certain of how well Bluey would react to the dragons or even more worrying if they wouldn't make a kabob out of him.
Hermione groaned and dug the balls of her palm into her eyes.
Viktor's strong hands delicately grabbed her wrist. "Her-my-oh-knee, wot is wrong?"
"Oh, Viktor," she sighed and relaxed as he squeezed her hands. She proceeded to recount the Director's words. "I'm not sure what I'm going to."
His eyes roamed her face, "I don't understand wot the problem is."
Her brows knitted together. "I need to find a place for me and Bluey."
"Do you need more space?"
"Any space would be nice," she said as she rested her head on the back of the sofa.
Viktor tilted his head, "Her-my-oh-knee, if you need more space for yourself or for your uni–Blue, ve can expand your room or the stables. It's not a problem."
Hermione twisted in her seat to face the Seeker. "Oh heavens no! Viktor, I–we can't possibly stay here."
"Vhy not?"
"I don't want to impose on you any more than we already have."
"Vho says you are imposing?" His eyes met hers with such a softness she hadn't seen before, he almost looked…disappointed.
"Me!" The tips of her fingers pressed to her chest. "You have done so much already and I don't want to be a burden."
He scooted closer, their thighs nearly grazing against each other. He reached for her hands again and Hermione's stomach did a flip when he kissed her knuckles. "You are a liar."
She snatched her hands away and placed them on her hips. "Excuse me!"
The corner of his lips curled up. "You said your memory was fine, but it clearly is not."
Her eyebrows knitted together. "My memory, like I said, is perfectly fine!"
Viktor hummed, "Doesn't look like it."
The audacity of this man! She didn't remember him being so cheeky. "Pray tell, why?"
"I told you," his dark eyes locked hers, "I vanted to help you and you vill never be a burden."
Hermione bit her lip. "Still."
"Please, Let me help you, Her-my-oh-knee. Plus it vill be hard finding a place for Blue."
"Bluey," she corrected.
"My apologies, Bluey."
"Fine," she sighed. "But under one condition."
He cocked his head back and his intense gaze bore into hers, making her squirm in her seat.
She straightened her back and met his eyes head-on. "I will pay you rent."
Viktor snorted. "Ne."
"Why not?!"
"I don't need your money." Never would have Hermione dared to compare Viktor to Malfoy, until this moment.
"Well, I think it's only fair."
"Fair to vho exactly?" He said almost bored.
"You!"
He tilted his body impossibly close to hers yet he still didn't touch her. Cedarwood and bergamot filled her nose. "I don't vant anything from you, Miss Grain-ger."
"It will help clear up any future misunderstandings," she clarified.
"Ah, yes, of course."
Hermione smiled. "This way your–" An uncomfortable knot formed around her stomach. "Your friends will not confuse this ."
A sly attractive grin appeared on his face that sent sparks across her skin. He nodded, "ve vouldn't vant that."
The knot tightened. Her lips quirked up into a forced smile. "I'm glad you see reason."
"I am a vizard of reason," he agreed.
"Good, so the rent?"
"Ve vill get to that Miss Grain-ger."
"Right, I guess we should form a contract."
"Naturally to avoid misconceptions."
"Yes. That's right."
His sly grin turned into a smirk. "Ve don't to give my vife any vrong ideas."
Hermione's face turned a crimson shade that put Viktor's Durmstrang uniform to shame. She grabbed the throw pillow next to her and swatted him with it.
"You've been teasing me!"
He laughed and the corner of his eyes crinkled. It was a hearty sound that rattled Hermione's bones and heart. He snatched the pillow and cupped her hands into his.
"Da."
"Viktor! You have to be serious! This is important."
"I knov." The humor in his eyes and voiced evaporated. "I knov hov important the unicorn is to you." He kissed her knuckles and her stomach flipped. "Let me help you."
"I..." Her words trailed off as a loud rumble echoed from her stomach, causing her cheeks to flush with embarrassment once more.
Viktor's laugh filled the air. "Let's get some food, da?"
Too embarrassed to speak, Hermione let Viktor lead her to the kitchen. He served her a hearty bowl of stew and a loaf of bread. After she all but ravished the food, a bone-deep exhaustion hit her like the Knight Bus.
In the morning, Hermione reluctantly agreed to stay at Viktor's cottage, rent-free, much to her dismay.
The next couple of weeks were nothing like she had expected.
First of all, she had been certain she would have trouble adjusting to sharing a living space with someone, but Viktor was surprisingly a great roommate. He respected her space and knew not to bother her when she was elbows deep in a book. Unlike Ron or Harry, he didn't get annoyed when she shooed him away.
Secondly, the wizard had taken time out of his schedule to show her around Vratsa, where it turns out his cabin was located. He had taken her Ledenika Cave, the Borov Kamak Ecotrail, and of course, the Vratsa Quidditch Stadium. He surprised her by taking her shopping, despite her initial objections. He made a convincing argument that they were already out in town. However, to her dismay, whenever she tried to pay, he had already settled the bill.
Hermione had learned two things from their trips. One, Viktor was incredibly well-read. He would tell her all sorts of fascinating tidbits of history. She'd listen as he trailed off and began talking about how Muggles misconstrued a lot of history, to which Hermione would argue that Muggles only knew about their world. They would then start a debate that would bleed late into the evening.
Another thing she learned is that there were two sides to Viktor Krum. In public, he would be brooding, scowling, and outright rude to the press. To his fans, he'd occasionally quirked his lips into something that Hermione thought was a very forced polite smile. She'd look at him and wonder if he was the same wizard that often teased her when they were alone.
The days turned into weeks and Hermione found herself lost in their routine. She would spend her days with Bluey, Stara and Nova. Viktor would usually get home late in the evening. They took turns cooking, and after dinner, they would sit by the fire in comfortable silence, each with a book in hand.
Hermione found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her books as time passed. Despite her best efforts, her gaze kept drifting towards Viktor, who sat across from her with the collar of his shirt open and sleeves rolled up, a telling scent of cedarwood bergamot and broom polish wafting around him. There was something magnetic about his dark eyes, that ignited a spark within her every time they met hers.
On a particularly snowy day in February, Hermione found herself unable to resist the allure of Viktor's forearms. Her eyes followed the muscles of his arms, taking in how they subtly flexed with each movement, each turn of the page.
Involuntarily, her mind began to wander. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers over the taut muscles of his forearms, to trace the curve of his biceps. She imagined how it would feel to have his bare chest pressed against hers, his strong legs trapping hers as they moved together on the couch they were sitting in.
Hermione tried to shake off the thoughts, to focus on her book. But it was difficult when Viktor seemed to embody every fantasy she had ever had since she was fifteen. She glanced up at him, hoping that her expression didn't betray her thoughts.
Viktor smirked that way that sent shivers through Hermione."Like wot you see?" he asked with a playful smile.
Hermione blushed furiously. She quickly looked back down at her book, trying to ignore the heat that was spreading through her body. "I was wondering what you were reading is all."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
Viktor shifted in his seat, closing the gap between them until their legs were almost touching. Hermione's heart raced at the closeness, hoping that this time he would finally make a move. For weeks, they had been dancing around each other, sharing lingering looks and ghosting touches but Viktor had yet to take things further.
His dark eyes locked onto hers, and Hermione could see the desire swimming in their depths. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension as his gaze traced the curves of her lips.
"Viktor," she whispered, reaching out to place her hand on his forearm. The muscles there flexed at her touch.
Viktor leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Yes, Her-my-oh-knee?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.
"What are you reading?" She breathed out.
His deep laugh sent shivers down Hermione's spine, causing her to clench her thighs together. She felt a warmth spreading throughout her body, and she couldn't help but want him to touch her, there, everywhere.
His voice dropped even lower, if that was possible, taking on a husky tone that had Hermione feeling weak in the knees. "You are interested, are you not?" he asked, his words loaded with a double meaning.
Hermione felt her face flush as she gathered every ounce of Gryffindor courage she possessed. "Yes," she almost whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of her racing heart.
Viktor leaned even closer, closing the distance between their bodies until they were only a hair's breadth apart. He tilted his head, his dark eyes never leaving hers as his lips brushed against her ear.
"Quidditch Quarterly," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of desire coursing through her.
Hermione blinked. Wait-what? But before she could ask, Viktor pulled back, a playful smirk on his face.
"And here I thought you didn't like Quidditch," Viktor said, a hint of smugness in his tone.
Hermione, embarrassed, was unable to meet his eyes. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting awkwardly. But before she could come up with a response, Viktor's hand reached out to her, gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek. It took all of her willpower not to lean into his touch, to pull him in closer.
"Good night, Her-my-oh-knee," Viktor murmured, using the pronunciation of her name that sounded like music to her ears.
She watched as he got up and left, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal wash over her.
As she sat there, staring out at the falling snow, she came to a realization. "Oh Merlin," she whispered to herself. "I think I like him." And with that, she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly.
